


GOODBYE

by literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte



Category: Everyman HYBRID, EverymanHYBRID, MLAnderson0
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 07:40:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2420564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte/pseuds/literaryFRIVOLOUSneophyte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GJUUi_5aic</p>
    </blockquote>





	GOODBYE

**Author's Note:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GJUUi_5aic

He wants to sit down – that's Vinny's only thought, the only thought he lets himself process. His legs are a little sore, his arm weak from holding the camera up so long. He's stood and filmed this attic too many times.

HABIT crawls over the floor like a fucking animal so he can stare and grin into Shaun's face. People have died in this attic. Tied-up on the floor that Vinny has had to mop and scrub several times over, Shaun's body is stiff with three parts fear and then, confusion, betrayal – he locks eyes with Vin but he is not looking at Vin. He is looking behind him at the dark hallway that the piercing light has its back to, open to a friend's knife, or a brother's axe.

Shaun whispers, “Shut up,” at the floor, but Vinny knows that never works. He once thought the scariest thing to happen to him was chasing a faceless monster in the woods and only finding a circle of plastic bags strung through the trees, but now he doesn't even have plastic bags to cover up the bodies, the remains he has _filmed_ strung across the floor.

Saying “shut up” doesn't do anything to help with the cruel and brutal things done by his friend Evan's hands. It's not even Evan doing the work; it's the thing inside him, the fucking sick animal from Hell, the HABIT. The fire of some awful world where all these formless entities that haunt and torture and devour come from burns through Evan's body, black and purple, purple and black and purple.

Black and purple, like the bruise on his arm from when he couldn't keep pace and a burning hand shot out and latched onto him like a hot fire iron. His skin felt like melting, and HABIT whispered in the voice of forest fire crackling and human skulls cracking, a fucking voice from Hell, “Hurry up.” 

Vinny had just nodded and walked faster. Didn't look at his arm until the body was cleaned up and he had another bloody memory to lose sleep over.

He isn't, has never really been, one to cuss, but Evan always fucking was. He doesn't have much left but a breath of air, a breath of clammy, tense air, and he exhales, just as stiff as Shaun.

“Vinny,” HABIT says, three parts Evan's voice and then, the darkness he doesn't trust to turn his back to. 

He reaches for the light. “Take the night off.”

Vin nods and backs away.

He hears a scream from the attic as the light turns off.


End file.
